Human horns and pestilent pustules

Despite the wood and glass, the faint smell of formaldehyde was everywhere. The scent evocative of high school biology class was unavoidable while peering into the cabinets containing thousands of bits of the long-dead.

And yet for me, the strangest aspect of this macabre place was that I was quite excited to be there.

I had found my way to the Mϋtter Museum, the College of Physicians of Philadelphia’s medical museum. Removed from Philadelphia’s Museum Mile, which stars the monumental Museum of Art, Barnes Foundation, and Franklin Institute, the Mϋtter Museum of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia has become something of a case study and pilgrimage stop for museum people. The museum is regarded as a paradigm for period museums, having retained its 19th-century character but brought into the current age with excellent “interpretation” — also known as “labels” to those outside the field.

Established in 1863, the museum is largely the collection of its namesake, Dr. Thomas Dent Mϋtter (1811-1859). Dr. Mϋtter amassed 1,700 objects during his career to assist with his teachings at Jefferson Medical College. Before his death, Mϋtter made arrangements to establish the museum and gave a bequest of $30,000 which was used to expand the collection.

Though there have been recent acquisitions and small temporary exhibitions, the museum has remained basically unchanged since the turn of the 20th century. This makes it a fascinating place to study and visit, particularly considering the changes that have been made.

Mutter Museum Philadelphia

The museum is fairly small but the cabinets that line the space are packed with both specimens and information. The entrance to the exhibition places visitors on a balcony which contains some glass-fronted cabinets. The majority of the specimens are on the lower level, down a creaky staircase which leads to two more rooms. Standing on the balcony, you can see most of the subterranean space, but it is not until you are close and staring can you tell you’re face to face with a desiccated foot or a wax model displaying the physical symptoms of syphilis.


For, it should be noted, a great number of the specimens are from real human beings, and most are a bit unpleasant. What makes the museum so noteworthy for museum professionals, however, is not simply the display of the disturbing, but the recently-implemented labels that contextualize the museum’s specimens, history, and display.

I have a great appreciation for skilled museum labels which, at their best, not only tell a story, but incite further curiosity. There is an undeniable mix of “voices” — tones, eras, and authors — in the labels’ text, but the newest labels successfully tell stories of the museum, its specimens, and the medical field in general. Many also anticipate visitors’ questions and uncertainties, addressing them directly with“whys” and“hows” that are conversational and witty. Among my favorites was an excellent hook within a label for a curved human horn — “Human and horns share a twisted history” — and a “Harry Potter” reference for mandrake.

Labels such as these are crucial in historic museums like the Mϋtter, which have not changed since earlier times. Interpretation has the power to give history and humanity to a collection, which was formed and displayed under very different circumstances, ideologies, and ethical standards than today’s.


The museum’s Hyrtl Skull Collection, for example, is a staggering display of 139 skulls. While Joseph Hyrtl collected these specimens to debunk phrenology — racist pseudoscience that claimed superiority or inferiority based on the shape of the skull — he still employed methods that would never be considered ethical today. Among the owners of the skulls Hyrtl collected are many of 19th-century’s “undesirables” — criminals, gypsies, suicides, and “imbeciles.” These people were at a societal disadvantage and likely had their skulls taken quite unwittingly or -willingly.

Other specimens in the museum’s collection also seem to have similar sources. Although I think many will recognize the unconscionable nature of such collecting methods, I found that I wanted more explicit explanations, or details on how the specimens found their way to the museum. My only additional critique of the labels is that some are difficult to read because of the amount of text and their placement behind the cabinets’ paned glass.

My criticisms are few, however. The Mϋtter Museum is definitely worth the pilgrimage, though perhaps not too soon after lunch.

Mϋtter Museum of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia

Where: 19 S. 22nd Street, Philadelphia, PA 19103;

Hours: 10 a.m. – 5 p.m.

Admission: $13-18

Details: No photography is allowed. Quarter-operated lockers are available for coats and reasonably-sized bags. There is a small gift shop with related books and merchandise.


All photos included in this post are from the Mϋtter Museum’s press page. The map is from its visitor guide.


Beverly Buchanan, or, Saying ‘Yes’ to Modern Art


Welcome to 2017, museum lovers! May it be filled with thoughtful exhibitions even better than the last.

With the new year comes the end of the Museo Files’ long hiatus from the blogosphere. This has been due to some life changes, foremost of which is my enrollment in a Museum Studies Master’s of Arts program in New York City. This has been terribly exciting but has also demanded much of my attention, especially in combination with a part-time position in a gallery.

The coming semesters will undoubtedly be equally busy, but I have made it a prominent personal goal for 2017 to resume writing about the many museums I encounter. While I plan to look back at some of the amazing — and less-than-amazing — exhibitions and museums I have seen in the past several months, I will also continue to expand my museum world with visits to new places and ideas.

A genre of art I often struggle with is modern and contemporary art, which is just where I headed with one of my first visits of the year.

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The Yale Center for British Art, or, Plentiful Portraits and a Curious Cabinet

Yale Brit Header

The Yale Center for British Art recently reopened this spring, after a 16-month closure that topped off years of conserving, renovating, and updating its facility. In late May, I took a gander to the Center, the largest collection of British art outside the U.K., after seeing images of the newly revitalized sun-lit galleries (and a free admission tag).

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“Prometheus Eternal”

I have not yet made well on my 2016 goal to write more blog posts, so in the spirit of trying to get back into the swing again, I bring you an atypical post in the form of a brief review of a comic book published in collaboration with a museum. Continue reading

“Adamo” by Stoldo Lorenzi


“Adamo” (“Adam”)
Stoldo Lorenzi (1534-1583)

Sala/Room VII (Sala del Gonfalone)
Castello Sforzesco, Milan, Italy

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“Tre Monaci” and “Quattri Busti”

Tre Monaci, Quattri Busti

“Tre Monaci” (“Three Monks”) and “Quattri Busti di Santi dentro mandorle” (“Four busts of saints in mandorlas”)

Sala/Room VI (Sala della Cancelleria)
Castello Sforzesco, Milan, Italy

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Castello Sforzesco, or the first of favorite places in foreign spaces


One of the Castello's outer walls

I find traveling to new places to be one of the best types of adventure. Whether it is simply a venture into a neighboring county or traipsing across countries by rail, “Travel and change of place impart new vigor to the mind.”1

A museum visit while traveling is, for me, the perfect manifestation of this thought. It is at museums that we canCastello courtyard be exposed to new ideas and ways of thinking, in both the expressions of culture on display and the ways culture is signified.2  Castello Sforzesco accomplished this exquisitely and was as a wonderful introduction to Italian culture, art and museums.

The castle-museum was one of the first amazing sights I stumbled across while studying in Milan, Italy, in 2013. It is located at one end of Parco Sempione, the green refuge in the historic center of Milan, close to where I lived during my studies. This park is also home to the beautiful Arco della Pace (a 19th-century victory-style arch, built under Napoleonic rule), Palazzo dell’Arte (housing La Triennale design museum), Arena Civica (a neoclassical amphitheatre) and a number of stray cats.

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A stolen moment in a museum can emanate pure magic.

To me, the extraordinary lives in stumbling into an unexpected, quiet back corridor filled with antiques and afternoon sun. It inhabits courtyards lined with sculpture and flutters across gilded frames.

For many of us museophiles, museums are not stale displays of objects encased in glass — they are capsules of life and culture, mirrors of society and self.

By no means comprehensive or expertly done, it is my intent to make the Museo Files a place of its name. I hope to fill this blog with some of the explorations, experiences and education I have found in both forgotten galleries and bustling treasuries across Europe and the eastern United States. Beyond an illustrative exposition of exhibits past, there will also be resources, critical discussions and short bouts of research about museums, art and the things that constitute the two.

Welcome to what I hope will be a fun and interesting compendium for all, from the knowledgeable to the curious.

* I cannot claim ingenuity for this blog title, as I happen to enjoy reading “The Anglo Files: A Field Guide to the British” by Sarah Lyall before partaking on this blogging adventure.